Pasts Crossed
by namjai
Summary: At the end of the battle in the attic in "Chris-Crossed," Wyatt is thrown into the past, and Chris is stranded in the future. An AU of the second half of Season 6.
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

Chris ducked Wyatt's fireball and completed the spell:

_Send me back to where I'll find_

_What I wish in place and time_

With a single crumple, he tore the page from the Book of Shadows and dashed toward the wall where the triquetra now blazed blue-white.

But a second fireball flew across his path, throwing Chris off balance as he skidded to avoid it. He wildly grabbed at whatever was at hand to break his fall, and took down a little wooden table with him, scattering little glass potion bottles - stupid, fake museum pieces that had never seen a spell.

Wyatt was back on his feet, and even if he looked a little bleary from the temporary knock-out Chris had dealt him with that full body slam to the ceiling, Chris wasn't going to trust his fate to that. The spell page still in his grip, he hurled another TK at his brother.

It didn't work this time. For one, it turned out he couldn't send the energy so well with his hand in a fist; for another, Wyatt saw the move coming and dove to the floor, his hair barely ruffled while a nearby rocking chair made a weak spin.

But at least they were now both down.

Enough of this. Run.

Chris scrambled to his feet as he plunged forward again.

Not fast enough. This time it wasn't a fireball that blocked him but a stream of orb lights, their blue-white matching the triquetra. When Wyatt re-formed, the portal was a halo around him where he stood, dead center, blocking Chris's way to the past.

Momentum was sending Chris colliding right into his brother. More orbing lights – this time a cloud around those potion bottles. They re-formed in a miniature meteor shower aimed at Chris's head. Chris was already throwing another TK, directionless and thrown sideways as he tried to dodge the pelting bottles - but this time he opened his hand, releasing both the spell page and the full force of his magic. The TK caught Wyatt as Chris was spinning to the floor himself.

The triquetra flared, filling the attic with light. When the light died, it was merely a wooden wall in the darkness, empty even of the chalk marks that had formed the symbol. The portal was closed.

And Wyatt?

Chris didn't get up off the floor this time. Dizzy, he crawled a few feet to pick up the dropped spell page. There was broken glass in his hair and he caught a whiff of wormwood - maybe, long ago, those bottles had held potions after all. _Wormwood, for protection, communication with the dead..._

Bianca lay a stretch of his arms away. But Chris did not, could not, look behind him. Instead, he stared at that now blank wall through which, amid the chaos moments before, he had accidentally flung Wyatt back into the past.

_To be continued_


	2. Chapter 2

Wyatt was not used to his entrance being an undignified backward stumble-fall, with just enough sideways push to save him from landing right on his tailbone. Instead, he hit the side of a day bed, to the sounds of startled yelps. When he turned toward the noise, he found himself facing his parents and his aunts.

This had not been his plan. He had not been expecting this, but he had no time to be overcome with emotion at seeing his long-dead mother. Not when her hands were raised in a gesture that was still instantly familiar: She was on the verge of either freezing him or blowing him up. As he was a witch, freezing would do nothing to him, but he was pretty sure she could blow him up if she wanted.

Better instead to freeze the non-magical way - stand perfectly still and not provoke her with sudden moves.

Phoebe spoke first. "Where's Chris?"

Nothing like being around _her_ again to suddenly become acutely aware of the rage and adrenaline still coursing through him, not yet dissipated from the fight with Chris. An old reflex kicked in, and he threw up mental barriers against Phoebe's empathic power. But the second she narrowed her eyes in response, he brought the barriers down again. By the time he was a teenager, he had learned ways to shut Phoebe out of his emotions, but he had never figured out how to shut her out from _knowing_ she was shut out. And in this new situation, better for her to know he was angry, still on a battle-high, than to think he was hiding something.

"Chris is back where he belongs." Wyatt slowly, carefully got to his feet.

Piper cut him short.

"Huh-uh. Don't move another inch. I may not be able to blow you back to wherever you came from, but I can sure as hell give it a try."

"See," Paige said, "we don't really appreciate someone kidnapping our Whitelighter."

"And stripping his powers," Phoebe added.

"Wait, your Whitelighter? Isn't he your Whitelighter?" Wyatt pointed at Leo, who had been so far silent, letting the sisters take the lead.

Now Leo spoke up, his furrowed brow contrasting with his even tone: "The Elders made Chris the Charmed Ones' Whitelighter after he helped them defeat the Titans."

"Unbelievable. He didn't 'help' the Charmed Ones defeat the Titans, they always defeated the Titans. And you just stepped aside for him? What are you doing instead?"

"How about you answer _our_ questions?" Paige said. "What happened to Chris?"

"Chris is unhurt - he's even got his powers back."

"You don't feel too happy about that," Phoebe said.

"Of course, I'm not happy. I'm trying to protect you, all of you, from his messing around with the past, and it's not so easy when people leave him spells under the attic floor to help him out. Was that you? Why do you trust him?"

"We don't," Piper said flatly.

_There it is._ She had told Wyatt exactly what he needed to know: Chris had never told them about his true identity. If Piper knew Chris was her son, she would trust him, period. She always had. He could almost feel sorry for Chris, having to face that distance in his mother's eyes. Poor kid wasn't used to it.

"But at least," Paige piped in, "Chris has been around long enough that we can trust him a little more than the latest guy to just pop in uninvited from the future. And after the day we've had dealing with your hired gun, you're going to have to work a little harder to sell yourself."

"Let me ask you: Did Wyatt put up his shield around Chris? Because he won't around me. Why don't you ask him?"

Piper's voice could chill an Underworld abyss. "Why don't you leave my son out of this?"

"That would be hard for me to do - Mom."

The bombshell had the desired effect. Four faces stopped arguing with him and stared.

Leo broke the shocked silence: "You're saying you're Wyatt?"

"Do you have any other sons?" Wyatt looked between his parents and, for the first time, allowed himself a small smile.

"If you're Wyatt," Leo said, "then why are you after Chris? He told us he came here to protect Wyatt from something evil that was after him."

"Look at me." Wyatt spread his arms. "Grown-up, whole and healthy and powerful - nothing 'evil' got to me. He lied. Or he's delusional. Either way, he's not the kind of person to be messing around with the timeline."

"Is that what you're here to do?" Paige asked.

"No. I'm not supposed to be here. Chris opened the portal. I kept him from coming back here, but …" He gave a short, bitter laugh. "You saw the way I came through. It was an accident."

His frustration was rising. It didn't matter that it made sense for them to be suspicious. It had been a very long time since Wyatt had been doubted and interrogated. It had been - well, _never _since he had been treated as insignificant next to Chris. But his parents still looked shocked and uncertain, Paige was obviously skeptical, and Phoebe … Phoebe was studying him with that _look_. That I'm-getting-into-your-soul-and-screw-your-privacy look.

"You could offer a little proof," Paige said. "If you're Wyatt, you should have the same powers. Orb something."

"No problem." He reached out a hand and silently called the one thing that would offer all the proof they could need: the Book of Shadows.

Nothing happened.

Paige looked from him to the Book. All four knew what he was trying for, he could tell, and nothing about it looked good for him.

_Okay, no messing with the Book just now_. He picked a less ambitious target, and summoned a candle.

Nothing.

He had never had to speak aloud, like he knew Aunt Paige used to when she was a new witch, but now he tried that: "Candle!"

"Okay," Piper said, "this isn't working-"

"Dammit! I must have lost my powers coming to the past. And don't tell me what this proves or doesn't prove - you know this can happen!"

"It didn't happened to Chris," Paige said.

"Yeah, but I told you, it was an accident that I came through that portal. Chris opened it. He said the spell, but I went through. That's got to be where it went wrong."

Paige threw her hands up as she said to the others, "Now what?"

Wyatt responded, "How the hell should I-"

"Hey!" Piper cut in. "Everyone just calm down, okay?"

Wyatt stood his ground as she came right up to him, looking into his eyes, as if searching for something. Without breaking that eye contact, she put a hand to his face, even smiling slightly as her palm cupped his unshaven cheek.

Every last bit of him resisted, he didn't want this, didn't _need _this, it could only weaken him, and he should back away - no, turn his back on her and stride away so she knew he wasn't afraid of anything she could do. Why couldn't he move?

Just then, Phoebe let out an audible breath. "It's okay," she said.

Piper dropped her hand and turned to her sister. "Phoebe?"

She was solemn. "That's the first time I felt an emotion from him that wasn't anger."

Piper looked back at Wyatt, eyebrows raised. "Really."

Wyatt did not want to hear Phoebe explain his feelings in depth, claiming to understand what he couldn't, but all she said was: "I'm not sure what it was, but it was ... gentler."

"I believe him," Leo said simply.

His mother didn't need to say what she believed - Leo only spoke aloud what was already plain on her face. Eyes turned to Paige, who shrugged, but her tone took on her light-hearted wryness.

"I'm just saying, if he's a member of this family, then he ought to know why we can't just take in surprise visitors without a little suspicion."

"You're right," Wyatt said. "And I'm not asking you to take me in."

"We can figure out a way to get you home," Leo said.

"No. That's not what I want. Not right now. This was an accident, but I'm going to take advantage of it. I've got to figure out what Chris was up to and repair any damage he might have done."

Piper asked, "If we're not taking you in, where are you going to stay?"

"I know this city and I know the places I need to be to investigate, and it's not here." A thought struck him. "Where was Chris staying?"

"Chris?" Piper said. "In the back room of P3."

"Your old nightclub? Huh. Comfy."

"That's where he asked to stay."

_My brother, martyr to the last_, Wyatt thought. "That's not where I'm staying." Before they could ask, he said, "I'm not telling you where I'm going and you need to keep quiet about me being here. It will be better if I'm on my own."

"Without any powers?" Piper protested. "You can't-"

"I can take care of myself. Besides, that's without _active _powers. There's still a lot I can do, believe me. You can keep watch on little me. He's around here somewhere?"

"He's downstairs, asleep."

Wyatt nodded. "I just need one favor before I go."

* * *

Leo carried Wyatt along as they orbed into P3's back room. It was late into the night now, but Wyatt could hear the thump of music beyond the door, the chatter of patrons closing down the house.

"Once I'm done here, I'll take off," Wyatt told Leo. "You don't need to stay."

"I want to stay - you know, talk to my son a little bit?"

Wyatt was already going through Chris's belongings, stashing what might be useful or informative into a duffel bag that Piper had given him. There was still room in it, even though she had supplied it with spare clothes (Leo's, he guessed), toiletries, snacks and money.

He didn't like feeling dependent on her, but he took the gifts. He lived in a future where everything just came to him - by offering or by force - but he could remember times he had fended for himself, on his own. Of course, back then he had still been hampered by lingering notions of "good" and "evil," and stealing fell on the wrong side of that line. It barely restricted him then and it definitely wouldn't restrict him now, but he was glad to be spared the trouble when he had more important things to do.

He tossed aside Chris's clothes - too small - but claimed a deck of tarot cards, some plastic bags holding potion ingredients, and a few stoppered vials containing completed potions of some kind. Raising a cushion of the couch where Chris had slept, Wyatt turned up a notebook, just about the size of his hand and bound with a cheap cardboard cover. It was clearly from this time, but already battered with use, with pages roughly torn out here and there; Wyatt saw, in Chris's handwriting, notes on demons and half-written spells. Chris's own little portable Book of Shadows. Wyatt put it in the duffel bag and finally answered Leo.

"I can't tell you about the future."

"Be vague. I want to know how you are, if your life is good."

"Couldn't be better - once I get this Chris problem fixed."

"Chris ... I should have trusted my instincts. I had proof in my hands that he-" Leo shook his head. "But I gave it away. I gave it to _him_. I could have helped you, but I blew it. I should have been thinking about my family, but he somehow convinced me to give him another chance."

"Yeah. He does that. What did you have proof of anyway?"

"Among other things, I think he may have killed a Valkyrie."

Wyatt was taken aback enough to express his surprise aloud: "I never would have thought him capable of it. What did he have to gain?"

Leo paced. "I don't know. Or I do know - he needed to get me out of the way. But I was already out of the way, I had become an Elder, and the Elders had already voted to make Chris-"

"Hang on, what? You're an Elder?"

He stopped pacing and faced Wyatt. "Yes. You didn't know that?"

"No, you were always..." But for a moment, Wyatt's memories felt unstable, shifting like tectonic plates in his mind. "What about you and Mom?"

"We're separated. Um, divorced. We aren't - weren't in your future?" He sounded almost hopeful.

For a flash of a moment, the memory seemed real: His parents had been divorced for as long as he remembered, but … _no_. Not possible. For one thing, he was not an only child.

Wyatt went back to searching Chris's things while turning this over in his mind. _Little brother, what a wreck you have made of this._

Leo asked, "Are you saying that without Chris's interference, Piper and I would still be together?"

Wyatt ignored that question. He had been scanning the metal shelves and pulled down a chipped coffee mug that was sandwiched between boxes of straws. From the mug, he pulled a dull silver chain from which hung a slightly less tarnished silver pendant. A vertical rectangle, the pendant was decorated with a triquetra. Not the exact same triquetra that adorned the Book of Shadows and had been chalked onto the wall that had led Wyatt back to this time. But something resembling it, the kind of trinket you'd buy in a New Age store or from a booth at an outdoor festival.

"This is mine," Wyatt said.

Leo moved closer to look at the pendant. "How did Chris get it?"

"Someone must have stolen it from me, but Chris never would have gotten close enough to do it." He grimly watched the thing twirl slightly at the end of its chain. "That means someone else took it for him - someone I've trusted is working with him."

"But why this? Does it have any kind of magic attached to it?"

"No. It's worthless. And that's probably why they stole it. I didn't wear it, it was nothing I'd miss, but it was mine, and they could use it to scry for me. To keep tabs on me."

With a flip of his hand, he caught the pendant and shoved it in a pocket of his jeans. "Never mind. I've got it back now." He turned away from Leo.

"Wyatt, you're hurt."

"What? I'm fine."

"No, you've got blood on your shirt, and in your hair, on the back of your head. Dried blood, but let me look."

"It's nothing. Chris got the better of me. _Very_ temporarily."

"Sit down. Let me take care of it."

Wyatt found himself obeying, not even flinching away when Leo briefly lay a hand on his shoulder before beginning his work. In Wyatt's own time, Whitelighters weren't exactly lining up to heal him, in the rare occasions it was needed. But Wyatt had been ignoring the pain from scrapes on his back and an occasional throb at the base of his skull, all thanks to Chris's TK slamming him against the attic ceiling. And while, unlike others, he could take Bianca's magic without the deadly aftereffects, he could still feel a lingering soreness mid-spine. So now, he gave in to the relief of the various aches, scrapes and bruises disappearing under his father's hands.

The moment the healing light faded, Wyatt stood. "Thanks," he said as he shouldered the duffel bag containing his haul. "I have to go."

"I can take you there, wherever 'there' is."

"No, I'm not doing that. I told you, I need to keep my presence here a secret for a while, and it's better you know as little as possible. Besides, hitching a ride to P3 was humiliating enough. I'll make it on my own power one way or another. Going the long way will give me time to think."

Wyatt opened the door that led into the nightclub, where the music and chatter were enough to drown out whatever parting words his father had. Without sparing a glance for the clusters of mortals drinking and dancing their lives away, he strode to the exit and headed out into the night.

* * *

_Next: Chris reconnects with some of those "demon contacts" of his._


	3. Chapter 3

Chris uncrumpled the page from the Book of Shadows and spread it smooth on the floor in front of him. As he did so, its words, the spell to travel to the past, faded under his fingers. He could not feel any surprise. Wherever, whenever, Wyatt was, if he didn't want Chris to follow, he'd make sure that didn't happen. Chris could recite the spell from memory, of course, but he honestly didn't think it would be worth the effort to redraw the triquetra.

All the same, he tried saying the words aloud, staring at the blank wall. Nothing happened.

Finally, he picked himself off the floor and turned to the wreck of the attic. He needed to find some way to contain Wyatt should he come back through that wall, but before anything else, Chris pulled a blanket – it should have been dusty, but it was museum-clean – from the daybed and covered Bianca's body. Only then did he start to scrounge for anything that he could use.

After about a half-hour, he found a box of crystals buried in a trunk. He laid them in a semicircle around the wall where the portal had been, and muttered a spell to activate them.

Now, the Manor.

He knew Wyatt had set up a powerful spell to enclose this place – that was why he and Bianca had had to sneak in with a tour group. For the time being, Chris needed that spell to keep working, but against Wyatt's minions. On the other hand, keeping everybody out could be good, just right now. To make sure of that, Chris had to figure out the spell.

It took him the rest of the night, paging through the Book of Shadows for clues, examining the perimeter of the backyard in the dark. He didn't dare go out front – too exposed – but what he found here had to go all the way around. It was almost elegant: all around the property, a winding, unbroken circle of ivy twined along the ground, in the grass, around flower beds, studded by crystals that were buried but for the occasional glint above the soil line.

Gingerly, Chris moved his hand over the line, and got a shock. Great, he was locked in. One more problem to solve.

But the thought struck him: For as long as Wyatt was gone from this time, the Manor was Chris's. His to protect, his to use as sanctuary. He had not expected to feel that connection ever again. Even while he had been in the past, it was the sisters' home. While he had enjoyed the strange freedom of coming and going there as he pleased, it was the family's and he wasn't family.

But in this time, he was family - the only Halliwell around for the moment.

So, the spell protected the house, and the house was his. Would that be enough? Could he tweak the spell to make it obey him?

So Chris settled himself in the kitchen and stared at a blank page in the faint light that came through the window.

Aunt Paige used to tell him – his Aunt Paige, not the younger woman who had been his charge these past months – that the effort of writing a spell helped create the magic, focus it on whatever you wanted it to accomplish. When Chris got frustrated trying to get rhymes just so in his first attempts to write spells, she assured him it was worth the time.

The thing was, Chris was sure Wyatt had not bothered writing anything when he had created this protection spell around the Manor. Paige's theory didn't seem to apply to him, never had.

Chris put that out of his mind and eventually cobbled together something he hoped would work.

He considered where best to recite his spell, and reluctantly climbed back to the attic, where he stood next to the Book of Shadows and said:

_Protection circle set round_

_To shield one within its ground,_

_Let its power treat fair_

_This blood that is shared,_

_Serve any Halliwell found_

He couldn't help a small smile of satisfaction as he saw the faintest shimmer in the air outside the window. And he had felt the power of it. But he had to make sure. Give it a test - a minimal risk test. And he knew just what to do.

Pre-dawn was turning the backyard a blue-gray as Chris stepped outside again. He walked to the perimeter, just inside it, and recited a different spell, a simple one created many years ago by his great-grandmother:

_Creature low, vile and base,_

_Come right now to this place._

A slight whirling breeze disturbed the flowers as the figure of a scrawny male demon materialized with an indignant "Ow!" as he bounced off the invisible barrier and landed in the grass. Then he spotted the Manor and scrambled to his feet in terror.

Chris stepped forward. "Penka. It's okay. It's just me."

Penka froze, his mouth dropping open.

"I had to make sure no demons could get past my protection spell," Chris said as Penka gaped. Then he added, "Uh. Sorry."

Since Penka still seemed unable to produce a sound – though he might have been trying – Chris kept talking.

"I know you're probably surprised to see me after…"

"Surprised? I thought you were dead!"

"Um…"

"Bianca said you weren't, but then she went back to working for Wyatt, and so we thought she had to be lying, that maybe she was lying all along, but you were just gone, so – where the hell have you been?"

"It's a long story…"

Penka noticed the Manor again. "And how are you _here_? Putting protection spells around this place, of all places?"

"Look, I need you to do something for me. I need you to contact-"

"No! Answers!"

Chris was taken aback. Sure, Penka seemed a bit panicky, but that was his default mode. Standing up for himself was a little more unusual. Chris expected complaining, but not demands.

"Okay," Chris said. "Fair enough. But it's got to be quick. I'm putting protection spells around this place because the Manor is mine, for now. Wyatt's gone."

"He's dead?" Penka's voice was immediately hushed hopefulness.

"No. Just gone. Temporarily, at least."

"Gone where?"

"Same place I've been."

"And you're not going to tell me where that place is."

"Not yet. Look, I didn't die, I didn't run away – I was on a mission, for all of us. I had good reasons for keeping it a secret. But it's gone kind of haywire, and I need time to think it over, to figure out what I can tell, okay? Can you trust me on this?"

"But I know what you're going to ask me to do. And I'm guessing it's because you already trusted _him_ with this secret?"

"As a matter of fact, no. I trusted Bianca. Only she knew."

"Great choice. Is she why whatever you were doing went haywire?"

_Well, yes._ But for a flash Chris wanted to drop the protection spell just to get through and throttle Penka. He had to remind himself that he didn't know how long any of their compatriots had been living with her betrayal.

All the same, defensiveness on her behalf colored his voice when he demanded, "Do we still have a man on the inside?" Chris asked like someone who was sure of the answer. Whatever had happened with Bianca, he was confident she would have kept this secret, at least.

That shred of faith was rewarded by Penka's grudging answer: "Yes, we do. He was never exposed."

"Then can you please go get him for me?"

"Since you say please. Where should I bring him?"

"This spot. I'll wait inside, but keep an eye out. Oh! Tell him to bring food. What? No one's been living here. And I haven't eaten since…" _2004?_ Not since before Bianca showed up in P3, which, according to his internal clock, was something like two days ago.

Penka gave Chris a look both aggrieved and resigned – that was more like the Penka of old – and shimmered away.

* * *

It was full daylight when a zap caught Chris's attention while he lurked downstairs. He sidled up to a front window to peer out.

He was pleased to find out his spell worked on mortals too. Backing away from the shield, rubbing her nose, was a guide. A different one from the woman who had led the tour he and Bianca had been on ages ago, but the uniform was the same.

Chris also found it heartening that this one looked so put out – because, as far as she could know, Wyatt was responsible for shutting the place down without telling anyone, not until she ran straight into the invisible wall. Good for her that she had enough spark, enough courage, to look pissed off.

But that look vanished quickly, replaced by a cowed expression. Following her gaze, Chris saw Penka strolling down the street, carrying a grocery bag. Penka technically looked like a human, and not at all an intimidating one. But there was something indefinably off about him. In this age when mortals were all too aware of the magical world – and this guide would know more than most - even they could pin him as a demon.

Penka stopped and talked to her, to Chris's mind looking silly with his groceries, but she soon turned and walked away. Penka watched her go, then tromped off toward the backyard, carefully skirting the property line.

"How did you get rid of the guide?" Chris asked Penka when they met by the flower bed.

Penka shrugged. "I acted like I was a minion. Told her that Wyatt wanted use of the Manor, so the museum was closed until further notice. I think he does that occasionally, so she didn't argue."

"I'm impressed. Quick thinking."

Apparently still in a bad mood, Penka wasn't going to dignify compliments by accepting them. He held out the grocery bag. "Do you want this or not?"

"Uh, yeah, hang on. I don't want to drop the whole barrier, but there's a way to open a door."

"What, you've locked yourself in?"

"It's Wyatt's spell originally. Probably he could walk right out, but he probably also found it useful to trap other people in."

"True."

"Anyway, I made a key." He pulled two bits of cloth he had found in the attic, small decorative things that he was sure had belonged to the house for generations. Crouching down, Chris scoured the ivy's leaves until he detected one of the crystals. With a light TK, he covered it with a one cloth, then repeated the process with the next crystal in line. Tentatively, he put a hand forward between them, over the line. No shock. The "door" was open.

Penka wasn't budging. He just held out the bag, and Chris stood up, stepped through and took the groceries.

"Why are you alone?"

"He said, and I quote, 'Who the hell does that kid think he is? He disappears for months, his girlfriend betrays us, and now he wants me to blow my cover?'"

"Did you tell him that Wyatt is gone?"

"I told him Wyatt was temporarily gone."

"And he didn't like the 'temporarily.'"

"No, not so much."

"Look, tell him that no one knows I'm here. And Wyatt was last seen at the Manor, so he can act like Wyatt is summoning him. Now."

"Uh, Wyatt doesn't normally send _me_. Wyatt just gets into his head, sends a summons. It's like the Whitelighter thing, in reverse."

"Creepy. And I can't do it. Go back and tell him-"

"He said if I came back he'd sic the guards on me. What do you want from me? I can't make him do anything. Nobody can – a Halliwell ought to know that better than most."

"Fine." Chris stooped to uncover the crystals and he felt the energy resurge between them as he pocketed the cloths.

Penka must have too, since he took a step back. Then he seemed to relent a little. "He did give me money for the food. I can bring you more. Just, if you use Penny's summoning spell again, open a door, will you?"

"Got it."

After Penka shimmered away, Chris returned to the house. In the kitchen, he rummaged through his groceries – Penka had smartly picked non-perishables. Chris briefly contemplated a granola bar, but then realized he still wasn't hungry.

The attic seemed to hang over his head. He had hoped for help with Bianca's body, but since help was not arriving…

He regretted letting Penka go right away. Maybe this new, semi-confident Penka had discovered how to throw fireballs. But he decided against summoning him back. Best not completely alienate his apparently only friend in this time.

Nothing to do for it, but one more trudge to the attic, one more look through the Book of Shadows for something, anything to help him with this terrible task.

When Chris reached the top of the stairs, his stomach lurched as he heard a voice.

"You've gotten sloppy. Open the door even a crack, and somebody's going to slip in."

Through the attic door, Chris spotted the speaker sitting relaxed on an old sofa, not six feet away from where a blanket covered Bianca's corpse.

"Granted, getting in here - I've had more practice than most. Now, where the hell have you been all this time?"

The adrenaline shock still rattling in his veins, Chris moved into the room. "And hello to you too, Cole."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Cole didn't return the greeting or rise from the sofa. "I'm waiting for an answer," he said.

"I'll tell you everything, I swear. But, first, I need you to help me. Please."

"With what?"

Cole couldn't have missed that he was sitting six feet away from a corpse. But he was going to make Chris say it.

"Wyatt killed Bianca. I need you to-" He found his voice catching. "We can't just leave her here."

Cole looked over at the quilt-covered body. "No. And we're a bit past traditional funerals these days. All right. I can take care of it." Something in Cole's expression had softened, however slightly, with pity. As he stood, he asked, "Do you want to say your goodbyes?"

Chris took a small step toward her, then pulled back. "I can't." Not with Cole hovering nearby. Reaching in his pocket, Chris felt the ring and added, "I already said goodbye."

Cole nodded and moved over to the body and reached for the quilt. "Do you mind? Being able to see her makes it easier to not take out the attic floor, too."

"Whatever you need to do." Chris turned his back and walked to the window, the need to keep hidden temporarily forgotten as he stared out at treetops and neighboring rooftops. He thought he could hear the sound of Cole's fireball, and a moment later, he saw a flare of red light, briefly reflected on the window. Then he knew it was safe to turn around.

Bianca was gone, along with the quilt and the blood. The floorboards that had been beneath her were unstained and unscorched.

Cole turned to Chris. "Do you want to go downstairs?"

Still staring at the empty floor, Chris could only nod.

They settled in the living room - it seemed least exposed to passersby. And Chris told him everything - okay, not everything, but a thorough explanation of the basics: how Chris had learned of some unspecified evil that got to Wyatt when he was a toddler, how he and Bianca had hatched this plan for Chris to travel to the past to prevent that from occurring, how Bianca, back under Wyatt's thumb (Cole affirmed this with a grim nod), had been sent to drag Chris back to the future. She had died trying to defend Chris in the attic, and … "that's when it all fell apart."

Cole raised his eyebrows. "Only now has it fallen apart? Seems like that might have happened when Bianca turned on you. On _us_."

"Penka said she didn't give you away."

"All right. I'll give her that, but not much more. So how exactly did this fall apart last night, and why are you here in this house?"

"Well, I was trying to get back to the past again, and…" Chris took a deep breath and then said in a rush, "Wyatt went through instead, he's back in the past, about 23 years ago, and he's done something to the spell so I can't follow him."

Cole stared, apparently trying to process this revelation.

"If he comes back, I set up crystals in front of the portal, to hold him."

"And we left the attic unguarded why?"

"Because you asked if I wanted to get out of there, and I did. We'll know when the crystals are activated, okay?" Chris didn't honestly know this to be true, but he guessed it might be, and he wasn't ready to go back up there yet. "Anyway, if Wyatt wanted to come back to the exact time he left, he would have done it already."

"I don't see why. I also don't see why you thought this whole thing had a chance in hell. Did you give any consideration to the idea that there's nothing in the past to change? Maybe he was just a bad apple. It's not unheard of, not even in your family."

"You haven't known him all his life, like I have. That's not who he is. _Something_ happened to him. I know that for a fact. The sisters rescued him without ever finding the culprit, but he was found in the Underworld. Whatever had him did something to him. That's what I went back to stop. It has to make a difference."

"Doesn't seem to have made a difference so far."

"I wasn't done," Chris said. "I've been looking for months, trying to follow leads on what evil could be after him." He sighed. "To be honest, demons are after baby Wyatt all the time - sometimes it seemed like there were too many possibilities. But the sisters were keeping him safe, more or less, and I-"

"You were in contact with the sisters?" Cole said sharply.

Chris knew what this really meant: _You were in contact with Phoebe?_

"Yeah, I kind of became their Whitelighter."

"Really? What happened to your father?"

"Leo - Leo's an Elder now."

"Huh. When did that happen?"

Chris shrugged uneasily. "When I showed up. Leo wasn't an Elder originally. That's a change that's my fault."

"Not something that's had much impact on the future so far."

"Not so far."

Cole looked suddenly amused. "There's no way Leo could stay with Piper while he's an Elder. You didn't happen to break up your parents before you were conceived, did you?"

Chris really didn't want to get into this with Cole. "I'm still here, right? Yeah, they're technically broken up, but it's not like it's made a difference. He's never gone from the Manor. All the times in the here and now that I've wished for him to be there, and back in the past, I can't shake him. It's ridiculous. They must think he's an absentee Elder - he'll probably get demoted. Problem solved."

"As long as you're not worried about it." Cole's dismissal somehow annoyed Chris as much as his raising the issue had. Cole continued, "What I want to know is, how exactly are we going to deal with the problem of Wyatt's absence?"

"Why is that a problem?"

"You think he doesn't keep his demon hordes in check? You think things are bad with him, imagine all the demons he's empowered - and they're now off leash."

"Okay. You've told me he goes off on his own sometimes, and even puts you in charge. So this is one of those times."

"That won't work for long. Yes, he's left things in my hands before, but I'm not the one he's trusted lately with that."

"It doesn't have to work for long, because if we don't fix the main problem, we're screwed no matter what: What's he doing in the past? How much more powerful will he try to make himself?"

"On the other hand, he's got himself a pretty good future here. He might disregard all the rules if it suits him, but he reasons to preserve this, to not mess up the past any more than he has to? Guess what: Your brother has thought along the same lines as you have once or twice. I stopped him with stories of my own cold, hard experience with trying to alter the past. Maybe I should share them with you."

"I know the stories, Cole, and I'm not doing this for personal gain. That's the difference. Whatever," Chris said, answering Cole's skeptical expression. "The point is, what if he figures out how to make things worse? Do you really trust him? Do you trust him with Phoebe?"

Pushing that button never failed. "From my point of view, he's already responsible for her death."

"And do you want her death to come twenty years earlier?"

"You don't even agree with me that Wyatt got her killed."

No, Chris didn't, but he tended to avoid the argument, since Cole's vendetta was what kept him on their side. But sometimes Cole himself had to make a point of it, as if Chris's doubts made him a distant accessory to Phoebe's death.

Right now, Chris said carefully, "I agree that Wyatt created the conditions that led to Phoebe and Paige getting killed. And he could do the same in the past. I have to get back. I've put to much into this, and it's the only way to fix things. It's like you said, even if Wyatt disappeared, everything's just too far gone."

"Does it make a difference to you, as you try to change this timeline, that Wyatt was the one that brought me back from the cosmic void?" It was not an accusation: While Cole's voice was cold, it had a clinical curiosity.

"Yes, but - I'm sorry. Believe me, I've thought it over. I've thought over a lot of things that may be sacrificed."

"Including yourself."

"It looks like it. But before I vanish from existence, I have to at least try to warn the sisters. I didn't give them the whole story about Wyatt. I thought they wouldn't believe me or trust me if I did. I need to tell them, I see that now."

"Did you ask anybody else if this plan was worth it? Because I'm surprised that Bianca went along with it, for however long she did. Most people would say your brother can't be saved."

"I'm guessing most people would say that about you."

"And maybe they were right."

"Look, it's not like anyone else has any plan to stop all this. But I've got one, and even if there's only the slightest chance it'll work, it's better than nothing." He paused, and when Cole didn't speak, Chris continued: "You say that Wyatt caused Phoebe's death. Maybe saving Wyatt means saving her. Isn't that worth it?"

* * *

Cole Turner shimmered in at the base of what was once known as the Transamerica Pyramid. Wyatt had commandeered it a couple of years ago when he decided that the Manor was too small for him. The Manor became a museum, and a swarm of demons drove out or killed the bankers, brokers, vice presidents and all their corporate underlings and claimed the Pyramid for their master.

Once Wyatt had control of the Pyramid, several bands of demons, warlocks and rogue witches had made their own attempts to seize a skyscraper of their own. Some did this with Wyatt's tacit permission; for others, it was an act of defiance against him. After a few weeks of this, downtown was littered with the rubble of ruined buildings. It's not that the mortals could put up a fight - they quickly fled - but the various demonic and magical factions started battling each other for the best real estate. That's when Wyatt cracked down and put a stop to it, apportioning territory to those who were loyal to him and wiping out the others. But the San Francisco skyline still showed the scars.

In the Pyramid, Wyatt had taken over the top floors for himself, where he lived and ruled. A significant portion of the building was unoccupied. Wyatt's minions could have filled the place, but only those within a certain circle of trust - as much as he trusted anyone - were allowed even to enter headquarters, let alone live or work there. Cole was one of them.

In fact, Cole had been brought back into this world within the Pyramid by Wyatt himself, not long after he had acquired the building. One moment, Cole had been in a cosmic void, the next, in a flash of fire, he was bathed in genuine, living sunlight pouring into windows that overlooked the city. From the void, he had seen enough of the world's descent to recognize the grim young man, dressed all in black, standing before him. And a little over a year before, Cole had watched helplessly, furiously, as this very man had caused Phoebe's death.

Cole had kept this to himself as Wyatt paced the room.

"I take it you know who I am," Wyatt stated.

"Word might have reached me."

"I know all about you: Belthazor, former Source of All Evil, once invincible, my aunt's ex-husband ... and former Avatar."

"Thanks for the trip down memory lane. Why am I here?"

"I want to know more about the Avatars, and you're the only source I could find. Tell me how to defeat them."

"Ignore them and they'll go away." At Wyatt's glare, Cole continued, "You want to know about my experience with the Avatars. I've had a lot of time to think about that experience, and what it tells me is that I should have ignored them. They were just one more bad decision. Tell me, are they trying to get you to join their ranks?"

"No." Wyatt looked almost peeved by this. "But I don't like the idea of that kind of power out there. I need a plan to contain them should they decide to strike."

"They won't 'decide to strike.' That's not how they work. If they haven't even put in an appearance lately, you're chasing phantoms. But you've got the evil overlord generalized paranoia down - good for you."

Wyatt glared at Cole. "I don't tolerate being talked to that way."

Cole shrugged. "Then vanquish me. I'm used to it from your family. Send me back to the void."

But Wyatt hadn't vanquished Cole. He had kept him around, at first as something of a prisoner - the prison being a well-appointed, albeit magically caged, wing of the Pyramid. Gradually, Cole's freedom expanded as Wyatt came to depend on him as a lieutenant who could offer good advice and keep lesser minions in line as Wyatt's empire expanded.

Cole played along, biding his time for more freedom, letting Wyatt think that Cole's evil nature ruled his desires and choices. But he mitigated damage where he could, and reasoned that keeping in demonic minions in check could only help in keeping chaos at bay, while he tried to determine a way, any way to bring Wyatt down.

The prospects of that were dim, but gradually, he became aware of outside resistance - chiefly through Wyatt's outbursts about his brother - and when he felt confident that it was safe to do so, he reached out to them. Of course, it took some convincing to get them to believe he wanted to help. Simply through family stories, Chris had inherited his mother's loathing for Cole Turner. But in the end, it was the argument over Phoebe's death that won Chris over: If Chris didn't blame Wyatt, he believed that Cole blamed Wyatt, and that made Cole a credible ally.

In time, Cole could consider himself nearly second in command in Wyatt's domain - if it weren't for his competition. Which one was in favor and which one was shut out swung with Wyatt's moods and bursts of paranoia, as well as more practical needs, and just at the moment, Cole found himself on the outs.

He hadn't decided yet how soon to seek out his counterpart to tell her that Wyatt was incognito, but it was difficult to avoid her for long, and when he entered one of the floors that served as the common space, there she was.

Cazakin leaned against a desk, her arms crossed, typically displeased to see him. "Turner," she said flatly.

"Expecting to see someone else?"

"I am here to see Wyatt, of course. Nothing to do with you."

"You may be waiting a while. But you go ahead with ... whatever it is you're doing."

He turned and began to stroll away. She grabbed his arm as she caught up with him.

"What are you saying?" she hissed.

Cole gestured to an empty office, once the private domain of some corporate executive. Caza looked around at the smattering of demons conferring in corners and took his meaning. She followed him in to the office and closed its double doors behind them.

"What is it now?" she asked.

"Wyatt's gone. He let me know he was going off on one of his ... expeditions, retreats, whatever it is he does. You know how he is. He'll be back when he's back. He asked me to keep an eye on things here."

It was a completely believable story. Wyatt had done this occasionally, and most times told either Cole or Caza, but not both. The problem with this lie was that as soon as Wyatt reappeared, this would likely be the end of him, or at least the end of his cover. But, Cole considered, this whole gig was already an exercise in staving off the inevitable. He had been undercover before. It always came to an end, one way or another.

"Of course," Caza was saying. "He can run off, have his alone time, and leave us to deal with the mess."

"What mess? I thought things have been running smoothly for once."

"Not anymore. Did you know his brother Chris is back in town? I caught one of the guards thinking about it."

Cole shrugged. "It's not like that kid's a threat."

"No, not really, but I'm guessing that's why Wyatt decided to take off somewhere. He probably killed his brother - _finally_ - and wants to, I don't know, brood? Throw a party? Whatever, it's a distraction. We've got bigger problems. I doing reconnaissance in the Underworld - I like to get things done on my own once in a while."

"No fun in delegating, huh?"

"I can do the job better," she said, and Cole didn't doubt it.

"So what did you hear?"

"I got close enough to a trio of demons wandering down a side tunnel. I got a look inside their heads, and it's not good. They're followers of someone named Andras, new in town and looking to overthrow Wyatt."

"So? There are always rumblings from the dissatisfied, and Wyatt always squashes them."

"And who's going to squash them if Wyatt is incommunicado? But the real problem is that Andras may be new in town, but he's apparently already got a mole within our organization. I couldn't get a name. The demons I encountered seemed pretty low in the hierarchy - I doubt they even know who it is."

"Shouldn't you be making a tour of the Pyramid right now, reading everybody's minds?"

"Don't worry, I will," Caza said. "But I can only read demons' minds. That leaves out warlocks, witches, Darklighters ... not to mention, whatever it is you are nowadays."

"I'm not a mole."

"No. Much as I hate to admit it, this crowd isn't your style - too much hyperactive posturing."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Caza bestowed on Cole one look of withering contempt before continuing: "The other problem is something I just caught a fleeting thought about: Kansas City."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

" I brought it to Wyatt's attention six months ago. I guess you missed it? A giant sinkhole opened up, taking out half a city block. Mortal engineers are still trying to work out what happened, but I thought it looked not at all natural. Wyatt agreed with me. So I've been keeping an ear to the ground. If the demons that did that have shown up here and are gunning for Wyatt ..." She gestured to the floor beneath them. "All I'm saying is that I live here. I like it here. I especially like the view. I'd rather not see it swallowed up into the ground."

"How sure are you that this is what they're planning?"

"Pretty damn sure, or I wouldn't have been here waiting to tell Wyatt."

"Well, I don't want to be the one to put in an emergency call to him and have it turn out to be nothing but your guesses. Let's take care of this on our own. Could you find their lair in the Underworld?"

"I have a good idea."

"Then send a team down there. Wipe them out."

* * *

An hour later, Cole was once again reminded that Caza's self-preservation instincts were second to none. She returned without a single singe from a fireball, but she returned alone. The team had gone up in smoke - most at the hands of this Andras.

"I couldn't get a read on him - I didn't get close enough," Caza said. "But he's powerful, he's up to something, and we're running out of time. We need Wyatt."


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note: Of course, it's only after I posted the last two chapters that I was reminded Charmed canon already had a demon named Andras. He was the "Spirit of Rage" in the Season 3 episode "Power Outage." Oops. Oh well, I guess if humans can share the same name, so can demons. But readers should know the Andras in this story is my own invention - he's not the rage guy. Apologies for any confusion! And now, after a long break, Chapter 5, back to the past:_

* * *

"Mama..."

The sound of her son's crying jolted Piper out of her nap. It was not a cry that said, "I'm awake and bored, get me out of this crib." It was a cry that sent Piper dashing to his room, where her instincts were proved right: Wyatt was calling for her from underneath his shield as a black-robed demon directed a beam of light at his face.

At Piper's entrance, the demon dropped the metal rod producing the beam, and it flashed and vanished in midair seconds before Piper blew up its owner.

Wyatt let his shield down as his mother rushed over and picked him up. "Hey, it's okay," she murmured as he quieted down. "It's okay..."

She knew he would be okay - she tried to convince herself he would be okay. She had now seen him as an adult, walking around, after all. But two weeks had passed since that young man had walked out of the Manor, and they had heard nothing from him. So she could only guess he was okay, but aside from that, his disappearance allowed doubts to creep in. Why had she believed he was who he said he was? Leo seemed convinced, but when Leo wasn't around, that certainty slipped away from her.

But if that Wyatt was telling the truth, it looked like he'd never be out of trouble. If it wasn't some demon coming after him, it would apparently be some gone-off-the-rails Whitelighter from the future, up to who knows what.

Nothing about Chris made sense anymore. As annoying as he had been, intrusive, nagging, secretive, neurotic, he really had seemed intensely focused on protecting Wyatt. If it had all been an act, it was a far more accomplished act than she would have given him credit for. Because in her experience, while he was indeed secretive and often deceitful, he was simply terrible at it. No, they hadn't uncovered much of the truth about him, so she supposed he was a good liar in that sense, But it was always so obvious that he was lying.

Unless all along he had been putting on a show of being a terrible liar in order to hide a deeper level of lying ... that was a talent for deception that made her head spin.

She wished she could talk to that other Wyatt again.

Once the Wyatt she had in her arms had calmed down, she returned him to his crib and - pausing to linger on a photo of her once-intact family, herself with Leo and their son - she headed downstairs.

She could hear Phoebe and Paige below, and the front door closing - someone was leaving. All the activity had the distinct feel of a quick cover-up.

Phoebe was hanging innocently on the bannister when Piper reached the first floor. Without breaking her stride toward the kitchen, Piper said as she passed, "Hey, how's that surprise party going?"

Phoebe hustled after Piper, and as they entered the kitchen, Paige quickly stood up from a crouch by some low cupboards.

"What do you mean, surprise party?" Phoebe asked. "There's no surprise party."

Piper set about preparing a bottle for Wyatt. "Just do me a favor and don't invite Greg. I broke it off with him two days ago.

"Aw, honey, I'm sorry," Paige said. "It just wasn't working out, huh?"

"No, it wasn't, not when I've got a grown son from the future wandering around the city somewhere. Kind of a big thing, you know? It's all I'm thinking about, but could I tell Greg? No. That made me realize the whole thing was a waste of time."

"What are you going to do?" Phoebe asked.

Piper shrugged. "What can I do? I'm over it. And maybe, once my life is a little more settled, I can think about dating again, but..."

"I meant what are you going to do about Wyatt - the other one. You haven't heard from him at all?"

"No, but I was thinking this morning, right after I vanquished a demon in baby Wyatt's room-"

Phoebe broke in: "Wait, excuse me?"

"Why didn't you call us?" Paige asked.

"Well, I didn't want to bother you. It's no big deal, I blew him up, he's gone."

"Okay," Paige said, "do you know every time you say that, they come back with a vengeance?"

"Kiss of death," Phoebe added.

"Do you guys know that Wyatt called me Mama?"

"He did?" Phoebe cooed. "Oh, his first word."

"Unless you count the conversation we had with him two weeks ago," Paige pointed out.

"Well, maybe those will be better first words to remember, whatever they were, because 'Mama' came right after he was attacked. I don't think I'm going to be putting that in his baby book."

"His first words in the attic were probably something like, 'Stop, don't blow me up.' "

"That doesn't make me feel any better, Paige," Piper said. She headed to get the mail as her sisters trailed after her.

"Yeah, about that conversation in the attic that night," Phoebe said. "Can we talk about what he said about Chris?"

"What, that he was double crossing us the whole time?" Paige asked brightly.

"That's just it," Phoebe said. "It doesn't make any sense to me Okay, it makes a little sense to me, because sometimes I could sense that he was hiding things, and then I stopped being able to sense his emotions at all. But I'm talking about his actions. All the time he was here, what did he do that was so bad?"

"You mean aside from setting us up with that demon feeding on our desires?" Paige asked.

Piper paused in shuffling through the mail. "Huh. I forgot about that."

"You said yourself, Piper, that you believed Chris when he said that was a mistake."

The doubts about grown Wyatt's story that had crossed Piper's mind not an hour before were evaporating. She knew that she wanted to believe her son. She did not know any reason Chris had given them to trust him. She reminded Phoebe, "Leo never stopped suspecting Chris sent him to Valhalla."

"Okay, okay, I'm just saying-"

"That my son is lying?"

"That maybe he's mistaken. That maybe he's misjudged Chris, that maybe we shouldn't jump to conclusions. I mean, he helped us with, um ... a lot of things."

"Well, you can have your chance to interrogate Wyatt about it if you want," Piper said. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I'm tired of waiting around and hoping he'll come to us. He thinks he's not going to visit his mother once in a while? His mother's a witch, living in a house full of objects that belong to him." She picked up a teddy bear from a sofa. "Who's going to help me scry for him?"

* * *

Despite the disreputable nature of the neighborhood, Piper insisted on going alone, driving the SUV instead of letting Paige orb her to Wyatt's doorstep. "I'm not going to ambush him with two aunts," she said. ("No, you'll ambush him plenty all on your own," Paige joked.)

Having left baby Wyatt in care of her sisters, now Piper parked on a potholed street a half block from the hotel that the crystal (with the teddy bear's assistance) had pinpointed. Unfortunately, it wasn't pinpointed enough. She had no idea what room he might be in, or even if he had checked in - he could have just been there temporarily, long gone by the time she arrived. Now that she stood under the dilapidated sign saying "Hotel Averno," looking through glass doors - one with a long crack patched with duct tape - into a dank lobby, she regretted not letting Paige bring her here. With the traffic, it had been forty minutes since the scrying. She could walk in and ask for him, but she had a sneaking suspicion that if he was here, it wouldn't be under his own name. Who was she supposed to ask for?

As long as she was here, she had to try.

Walking through the doors, she nearly ran into a surly man walking out - he snarled at her as he shouldered her out of the way, and she felt pretty sure he was a demon. _Great_.

No one was behind the counter, but there was a bell, and Piper rang it and waited, looking around at the threadbare furniture, smelling the mold emanating from the carpet.

"Yeah, what do you want?" This time the surly person who was probably a demon was female, looking at Piper with deep skepticism. "You want a room?"

Piper decided to approach this like she was in a nice, normal hotel and she was not talking to a demon clerk. "No, I'm looking for a friend of mine. A young man, tall, with kind of longish blonde hair, he would have checked in maybe a couple of weeks ago. Do you have anyone like that staying here?"

"He doesn't have a name?"

"Um, well, it's ... sometimes he uses different names? You know, kids. With their wild nicknames and all." She took a stab in the dark. "It could be Matthew?"

"Right. Let me tell you something, lady. Even if you knew his name, people come here because they want to hide and they know we'll keep our mouths shut. But since you don't even know this guy's name, that sounds like he _really_ wants to hide from you. So get the hell out."

Resisting the urge to blow up the rude demon clerk on principle, Piper turned and walked out. Outside, the air on the street was only marginally fresher than in the lobby. With no plan for her next action, she walked back to the SUV - only to be startled by a voice coming from the nearby doorway of a long-boarded-up restaurant.

"What are you doing here?" Wyatt said by way of greeting.

"Looking for you."

"No kidding." She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted her: "If you want to talk, unlock the car, and let's go somewhere else. I really don't want to be seen on these streets chatting with a Charmed One."

She supposed that was fair enough. As she drove away, he sunk low in the passenger seat, only straightening up after some six blocks, just as the SUV entered streets with less derelict buildings and fewer suspect pedestrians.

Piper finally spoke: "_That's_ where you've been staying?"

"Old stomping grounds." He side-eyed her with a faint smile. "For the sake of my future teenage self, I'm hoping you forget about it."

"Oh, _terrific_."

"I told you not to follow me."

"And I'm your mother. I have certain prerogatives. You can't just come here, announce yourself, and then disappear. You want help getting back? We can help with that. And we can certainly help with figuring out whatever Chris was up to - _we_ were the ones dealing with him on a daily basis for months, remember?"

"And I've dealt with him for years, remember? Who do you think knows him better?"

"Well, have you found out anything?"

"Not much," he admitted. "First thing I had to do, though, was come up with a spell to keep him out of the past. Honestly, I didn't know if I could do it - he's not even old enough to exist in this time yet, so I had to target the person in my own time, if you get what I mean. But my spell seems to have worked so far. He's not here, anyway."

"How do you know? He could be here, hiding out like you."

"I'd just know. And if he had come back, you'd know, too. He'd try to get back in your good graces. If you haven't heard from him, he's not here." Wyatt looked out the window. "You're driving to the Manor, aren't you?"

"Force of habit. Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, it's a good idea. Just to be sure, I'd like to reinforce the spell up in the attic, since that's where Chris would come through again. So why did you decide now to contact me, anyway?"

Piper explained about the demon attack that morning. "Do you think it had anything to do with whatever Chris was up to?"

"It could. Anything could."

"Do you remember anything like that happening to you?"

"Not really, no. Demons coming after me aren't an unusual occurrence. But you said you blew this one up."

Piper sighed. _Demons still keep coming after him_. "I'd still like to know there was only one demon _to_ blow up. I'm going to look through the Book of Shadows to see if I notice anything. Nothing remarkable about his appearance - tall, robed, with this little metal rod thingie."

Wyatt said nothing to this, and they rode along awhile in silence that was only a little awkward. Piper stole the occasional glance at the young man sitting next to her. He watched out the window, frowning as if the city itself were a puzzle.

Then she caught him wince and put a hand to his temple.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just have a headache ... of a sort. It comes and goes."

They were at a red light, not far from home now. "I can get you something for it back at the Manor."

"It's nothing. It's gone already." And it was true that his expression had cleared of any pain.

As Piper pulled into the Manor's driveway, she said, "Oh, just warning you, since you're here? Phoebe's probably going to insist you come to my surprise party."

* * *

"Well, look who you found," Paige said as Wyatt followed his mother into the sunroom. Paige picked up a teddy bear and waggled it back and forth. "This was the key. Easiest scrying we've ever done."

"Hey," Phoebe said. "Welcome home."

Wyatt took an involuntary step back despite himself. In Phoebe's lap was a blond-haired baby who had started reaching his arms up in a "want" gesture as soon as Paige had held up the bear. Phoebe took it from Paige, who was absently still holding it, and handed it to the kid. He seized it, even though his attention had almost immediately been distracted by something else: Bear grasped in one hand, he now reached toward Piper.

"Mama."

"He has learned that word well, such a big boy," Phoebe said as she released him to his mother.

_This is weird_, Wyatt thought.

Piper must have read his expression, because she said to him, "Yeah, I remember meeting my younger self. And younger Prue - remember that Phoebe?"

"And Mom pregnant with me. You know, that may count as weirder."

"Okay, well, I'm going to have to leave you guys to reminisce without me," Paige said. "Phoebe, if you don't need me for ... stuff, I'm going to try to spend some time with Richard today. You know, since I might be busy tomorrow."

"Richard's not invited tomorrow?" Piper asked after Paige orbed out.

"Invited to what?" Phoebe said. "Not that there's anything going on, but if there were, Richard's been having magical problems again, and Paige thinks he needs a break from, you know, us."

Piper looked between the two versions of her sons. "I can see how it might be a problem. What about Jason?"

"Yeah, Jason's the opposite. He still doesn't know anything about me being a witch and - oh, you meant about tomorrow. I think he's in some place like Zimbabwe right now. Can I talk to you?"

She walked up to Wyatt and took his arm, startling him out of the trance of disinterest he had been slipping into. She pulled him into the sitting room, and Wyatt saw Piper roll her eyes a little as she moved to sit in front of the Book of Shadows, which was opened on a coffee table.

Once they were out of Piper's hearing, or at least out of her line of sight, Phoebe asked, "Tomorrow is your mother's birthday. We're having a surprise party."

Wyatt looked in his mother's direction. "Surprise?"

She smacked his arm lightly. "Shh. Try to get in the spirit of things. You need to come. It'll be just me, and Paige, and Darryl and Sheila - do you know Darryl and Sheila? A nice, small dinner."

"And Dad?"

"I thought that might be kind of awkward." She stopped and considered. "But if you're there, maybe not. Parents can still have a healthy relationship for the sake of their child, you know?"

"I'll see. I'm going to help Mom look for this demon that attacked today - I might be busy."

"Oh, come on, it's her birthday!"

"Phoebe," Piper called from the sunroom. "Stop badgering my son."

Wyatt wondered if Phoebe had more than family togetherness in mind. Despite her bright smiles, her uncertainty about him was transparent. She couldn't possibly doubt his identity after they found him using that teddy bear, he thought, but her empathy power could pose a problem if her imagination ran away with her. She might try to confront him if she cornered him at this party. He could handle that, but it didn't make the prospect any less annoying.

For now, though, no confrontation: Phoebe excused herself to go to work. Wyatt headed up to the attic to work on reinforcing the spell keeping Chris in the future. Piper, having eventually declared defeat on finding the tall, robed demon or his metal scepter in the Book of Shadows, came up to the attic, where she put the younger Wyatt into a playpen.

Grown Wyatt tried to ignore the other one. He was flipping through the Book of Shadows himself.

"You're looking for something to keep Chris out?"

"No. I've completed that to my satisfaction. You won't be seeing him again. I'm just making note of things I can use - spells and potions, ways to defend myself since I don't have any active powers."

"Since you don't have any active powers, you shouldn't be getting into situations where you have to defend yourself."

"Not much chance of that. Don't worry about it. I've been busy since you saw me last, pulling together a stock of potions, thinking up spells. This is just a backup, to remind me of anything I may have missed." As he spoke, one page caught his eye and he pulled out Chris's notebook. "Can't believe I forgot about this one. This will come in handy."

"What? What is it?"

"Just an old spell Grams came up with," Wyatt said while copying it. "It actually may come in handy with this demon hunt we're on right now."

"_You _are not on any hunt. I am, and your aunts."

"Mom, face it, you brought me onboard whether you like it or not. I've got to follow up on this lead." He stood up to leave, flipping the Book of Shadows shut.

"What lead? You don't even know what the demon looks like, and anyway, I've already checked - he's not in the Book."

"It's not that kind of lead. Call it a fact-finding mission. I've got to go."

Carrying the baby along with her, Piper followed him downstairs and to the front door. As he opened it, she said, "I'd freeze you if I could, mister."

"You can't freeze good witches, Mom."

"At least tell me you'll come by tomorrow. Not just for Phoebe's party, but to check in. If you're helping on this, then you have to actually _help_, right here where the little you is threatened."

Begrudgingly, he saw the logic in this. "All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

Piper smiled and kissed him on the cheek before he could walk away - the baby briefly grabbed his jacket. "I'll see you tomorrow," his mother said. "And you don't even have to bring a birthday present."


	6. Chapter 6

That first night, Wyatt had faced some trouble winding his way to the Hotel Averno. Orbing took some degree of geographical awareness, or so Wyatt had always thought. But as he tried to navigate San Francisco's streets on foot and several wrong turns took him off course, he had to rethink that idea. A simple mental map of the city was a different kind of geographical awareness that he really had never had to learn.

But by dawn he had found the Averno, and checked in - under a fake name, of course. It was a flophouse, like others in the vicinity in its dirty, threadbare appearance, but it was unlike others in what kind of beings frequented it. It had had the same management for decades, and its clientele were not the usual drunks, druggies and deadbeats – well, some of them might be those things, but drunks, druggies and deadbeats who were demons, warlocks, witches of dubious character, even your occasional surly leprechaun whose luck had run out.

Wyatt himself had first discovered the Averno in his early teens during one of his secret, solo demon hunts. Then, some months later, after a big fight with his parents, he stormed out of the house - so angry that he left on foot just to be able to slam the door with a vicious TK - and orbed to the Averno's doorstep. The people (or not-people) on that street were apparently used to magical traffic, since no one gave a teenager's appearance in a swirl of orb lights a second glance. He marched into the lobby and took a room.

Over the next few years, it became his occasional hideout when he needed to escape his family for whatever reason. Sometimes it would be to meet someone – for a tryst, or a negotiation, or to set a trap. Sometimes he would have no set purpose: He'd just lie in the bed, testing his mental powers, reaching out to the tenants in the rooms surrounding his, detecting their powers, trying out ways of his own devising to control them through the threadbare walls. The place was awash with dark powers and demonic energies, and he soaked it all in.

Now, with no active powers, he could do none of these things, but it was a place to stay, to regroup and plot out what, if anything, he wanted to accomplish back in this time.

Telling his parents and aunts that he needed to figure out what Chris was up to had been a bit of quick thinking, a story that they'd believe, but it had some merit all the same. First of all, he had to make absolutely sure nothing his brother had done here had had any effect on the future that Wyatt meant to keep in his iron grip. Second ... Wyatt had to admit a gnawing curiosity about what exactly Chris thought he could fix, here in the past. Why had he become so convinced that some "evil" had got to Wyatt?

It was very possible that Chris was delusional, so trapped in his notions of good and evil that he had talked himself into this nebulous threat as the only explanation for Wyatt's "fall."

But just suppose something really had happened? Chris's interpretation of it would still be ludicrous - as if anything or anyone could set Wyatt's destiny. But what if it was something that Wyatt could, while here in the past, come to understand and, understanding, turn even more fully to his advantage? What if the knowledge could make him that much more powerful in his future?

There was no rush to figure out a spell to get back to his own time. The beauty of time travel was how it gave you all the time in the world - well, some twenty years, in this case. Wyatt didn't need that long, but he decided it was worth spending a little time to work out whatever Chris had thought he was doing. And now, apparently, to help his mother protect his younger self.

He could have flat-out refused to talk to her. He saw her walk into the Averno, and he could have walked away, come back later when that SUV - incongruously pristine in that rundown neighborhood - was gone. Instead, he waited for her, without really understanding why.

He knew he'd have to entangle himself with his family one way or another if he wanted to follow Chris's trail. But he expected to control the circumstances better than this. Somehow he'd let himself be dragged along.

On the other hand, something _had _attacked little Wyatt - attacked his own self, no matter what age - and that was something he would never let pass.

He had not idled away these past two weeks. As he had told his mother, he had armed himself with spells and a stash of potions, and, more than anything, he had his wits and a power that had nothing to do with orbing or shields or fireballs. He had himself, and he would prove that was all that was needed.

That self-sufficiency included such mundane things as conquering public transportation. He had thought ahead, and already routed the way from hotel to Manor and back.

He returned to his current neighborhood, but didn't go back to his room. Instead, he found a nearby alleyway to recite Penny Halliwell's old spell. He felt a little annoyed that it had come to this. Of course, he had already tried to summon Cazakin in this time. He knew she was out there somewhere, and she would have been his preference by far. But her defenses were too good, and his powers ... he had to face up to the limitations he was saddled with here.

But this would do, having no other options. So he spoke the spell:

_Creature low, vile and base_

_Come right now to this place._

The "creature" showed up in a whirl of wind, and in mid-sentence: "... promise, Boris, I'll get the money to you, just give-"

He stopped talking and even though the alley was otherwise empty, he whipped around wildly for a moment before his attention focused on Wyatt. Then he gave a nervous laugh.

"You have excellent timing. Thanks, whoever you are. Although, what, has that spell been posted on the Internet now? You know, the witch who came up with it promised she'd keep it to herself. But she's dead. Then a Whitelighter started using it, and now you. Who are you supposed to be? I know you're not a demon."

"Just another witch, with good connections."

"Oh, great. With that spell spread far and wide, how am I supposed to live my life with you people yanking me out of it every time you feel like it?"

"A minute ago you were grateful."

But the demon was on a roll. "I told that Whitelighter, I said, you've got to give me a break, or I'll find some way to counteract that spell, I swear I will, and he said-"

"Penka!"

"What? Wait, how do you know my name?"

"If I know the spell, I know your name, idiot. I said I had good connections - that means connections to get my hands on the spell. It's not spread 'far and wide,' so shut up about that."

Wyatt stopped and forced himself not to grimace. The same "headache" - that's not really what it was - that had hit him earlier flared up again. It was not pain, exactly. That would be easy enough to bear. It was more an odd buzzing, and a feeling of something trying to tug at his consciousness like a fishing line. It was gone in seconds.

Penka didn't seem to have noticed. "Where are we anyway?" He scooted a little down the alley and peered around a corner to get a look at the main drag. Then he rapidly retreated, slipping into Wyatt's shadow before a trio of demons sauntered by.

Wyatt didn't even bother to ask what that was about. Whether Penka had already pissed one of the trio off, or he had just telepathically "heard" a random thought that made him nervous - skittishness was Penka's default mode, and Wyatt didn't care.

"Do you know about the Charmed Ones?" he asked. "And about Piper Halliwell's son?"

"Oh, you're on about that, too?"

"Why, who else has been asking?"

"That's what their Whitelighter was so obsessed with."

"What did he tell you?"

Penka edged behind Wyatt again and a moment later, a solitary pedestrian walked past the alley's opening.

"Look," Penka said, "can we go somewhere where there's not quite so much demon foot traffic? It's really distracting, and I don't much like being seen chatting with a witch."

"Where did you meet with the Whitelighter, then?"

"There's this park, near the Charmed Ones' nightclub, you know the place? P3?"

"Yes, and I know the park. Spent time there as a kid. Give me a lift, and we can talk there."

* * *

"That was weird," said Penka as they shimmered into the park. "Never took along a passenger before."

"And I've never shimmered before, so it's a whole new experience for everyone."

They were just behind a maintenance building, shielding them from the busy park. Penka strolled on out, toward the sounds of life. Children screeched and whooped around a swingset and a jungle gym, dogs chased after Frisbees, a jogger nearly collided with Wyatt as he caught up with Penka – who, seeming suddenly cheerful, was making a beeline for an ice cream vendor.

"Much better," Penka said after he ordered a double scoop cone. "Now I can talk."

"Good. What was the Whitelighter's obsession with the son?"

Penka's shrug was not quite as nonchalant as he might have hoped. "Beats me. He was their Whitelighter. I guess that included the kid for him. Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Because he's not around anymore."

"Huh. What happened to him?"

"He's not dead, if you're worried."

"I'm not worried." He seemed offended at the notion. "Just curious. What if whatever got to him comes after me?"

"He's been contained, let's say. Not hurt, just not coming here anymore."

"How come?"

"What did he tell you, that he had the purest of intentions, that he was on the side of good?"

"Um, he's a Whitelighter? I just took 'side of good' for granted. They're all good, right?"

"You'd be surprised."

"And it's not like he was asking me to do bad things. He just wanted me to keep my ear to the ground, so to speak, for any threats to the kid."

Something struck Wyatt: "Did he even tell you his name?"

"Well, uh, no, not as such. I've only met him maybe three times, four. It's been a while. I was actually thinking of trying to get hold of him, because I found this demon that can scan for ev-" Penka cut himself off and then continued, a bit too quickly, "Well, never mind, it's not important. I just thought I'd suggest it, but you say he's not in a position to do anything about it, so never mind. Can I go?"

"I didn't call you to talk about the Whitelighter. I'm sure I know a lot more than you about that situation. Let's just say that he wasn't necessarily working in the best interests of that kid. And I'll also say to you, that just because someone uses you, lets you work for them, doesn't mean they really trust you, or have your best interests at heart."

Penka looked morosely at his melting, half-eaten ice cream cone, and Wyatt waited for Penka's natural paranoia to fill in the blanks. Then Penka asked, "So you're saying he wasn't trying to save that kid, he was trying to mess him up?"

"I know it."

Now he looked Wyatt in the eye. "So what? I'm a demon. Evil is after the Charmed One's son? Great. Go Team Evil."

"Give me a break, Penka. You've got a reputation - at the very least for doing next to nothing for 'Team Evil,' and sometimes actively working against it, ever since the days of Penny Halliwell. I know what Mero demons can do if they put their mind to it: I've met your sister. But you? You're not fooling anyone."

"All right, you know, all that says is that I need to change my ways, right now. Stop helping Whitelighters who have unspecified bad intentions, and don't start helping witches, any witches. Unless they've gone evil. I'll help evil witches. From now on, I'm a changed demon."

He re-tackled his ice cream, practically turning his back on Wyatt, who wondered if mentioning Caza had been a strategic blunder. Family – you never know what that's going to bring up.

"Look, I'm not insulting you here. I'm trying to work with you without resorting to threats - I'm guessing threats were how Penny Halliwell got you on board." He aimed for a reasonable tone, but the message was unstated but clear: _I can turn to threats, so let's not go there and skip to you cooperating_.

"I don't even know what you want from me. Information? I have more than anyone, including myself, could ever need."

"I want to know if there are any demons specifically after the Halliwell kid right now. Beyond empty bragging and daydreams. Actual plans put in motion. Skulk around the Underworld. Report back what you hear."

Penka gave an aggrieved sigh and polished off his ice cream cone, wiping his fingers on his dingy coat. "If I did hear something, if I even make it down there, how do I report back?"

"You can find me at the Averno. Ask for Michael in room-."

"I'm not going there! That place is a racket of demon thoughts, and full of all sorts of lowlifes I would rather not run into. I'm surprised any witch would stay there."

"It's easier to keep on eye on an enemy that's close at hand."

"Too close."

"You don't need to linger. Just drop a note off at reception giving my room number" - he scribbled it on a page corner torn from Chris's notebook and handed it over - "with a meeting time and then run. I'll show up here at the time you give."

Penka scowled and pocketed the paper, grumbling unconvincingly, "Have I mentioned how much I hate witches? I hate witches."

* * *

Piper walked into the Manor, her small son and shopping bags in tow.

"Piper?" Paige called. "We're in here."

Piper dropped the bags on a table in the sitting room before following Paige's voice. She and Phoebe were in the living room - Paige holding a wooden box of crystals, Phoebe talking on the phone.

"We're setting up a demonic alarm system," Paige announced, displaying the box.

On the phone, Phoebe gave a nervous laugh and said, "No, she said we're watching a mechanic set up an alarm system. You know us girls, can never be too careful."

Paige smiled slyly and moved into the sunroom, distributing her crystals on tables as she went.

Piper followed. "Do you need any help?"

"Absolutely not." Paige set down a crystal, which briefly hummed and glowed. "It's your birthday - you just take it easy. We're on it."

Paige was on it, anyway. Phoebe was finishing up her phone call.

"Okay, I love you, too. Bye." She disconnected and turned her attention to Paige. "Cute, very cute."

"Just trying to help."

"What, are you trying to blow my secret?"

"Well, you said yourself you're going to have to tell him sooner or later."

"Yeah, but I want to be the one to tell him, not AT&T." Phoebe turned to Piper. "Did you and Wyatt have a good time with lunch and shopping?"

"Yeah, he got a little bored while I was shopping for a phone, but then we stopped at a fair, and he got a balloon animal and cotton candy, and then he started getting cranky, so we came home. I think someone needs a nap."

"Ohh," Phoebe cooed. "Is my favorite nephew cranky? Do you want me to put him to bed?"

Piper gratefully accepted, handing Wyatt over and settling in a chair as Paige placed one more crystal and moved toward the stairs herself. But Piper hadn't enjoyed even a minute of her Paige-mandated relaxation when the doorbell rang, followed almost immediately by the sound of the door opening. Piper jumped up, on the alert, but then heard the sound of her grown son's voice.

"Anybody here?"

Piper and Paige rushed to greet him.

"Our first party guest," said Paige. "But, shh, don't tell Piper. It's a surprise."

"Do you always leave this door unlocked?"

"Well, we're home," Piper said. "And look" - she pointed out one of the crystals - "demonic alarm system. Or so Paige says."

Wyatt looked dubious but just said, "I'm here to talk about that demon attack - I'm not here for the party."

"Um, can't you be here for both?" Paige asked. "And can't you wish your mom a happy birthday before jumping right in with demon attacks?"

Piper thought she saw a flash of genuine anger from Wyatt, but then he briefly closed his eyes and took a breath before turning to her and saying, more-or-less graciously, "Happy birthday, Mom."

"Thank you," she replied.

Phoebe came down the stairs at that moment. "Wyatt, I'm so glad you came!" she exclaimed, handing the baby monitor to Piper. "Paige, do you need any more help with the crystals?"

"No problem, I got it. I just need to place some upstairs, and then I can come back down here activate the whole thing. You can help with that."

Piper thought Paige seemed inordinately chipper about this, and Phoebe must have thought the same thing, because she asked, "Why are you in such a good mood?"

"It's nice to practice magic without feeling guilty, that's all. I'll be back in a minute."

Wyatt frowned after Paige as she walked upstairs, prompting Phoebe to fill him in: "Her boyfriend, Richard, has a problem with magic. Overdoing it. So she cuts back in front of him. Meanwhile, I'm dating a Mortal, and he doesn't even know I'm a witch. And..." Phoebe took on a teasing tone: "You know, I don't need the empathy power to feel the wave of indifference coming off you."

"To tell the truth, I already know how these things turn out so I really can't bring myself to care."

"All right, people," Piper said. "This conversation has taken a fabulously awkward turn, so can we get back to demons, please?"

"Yes," Wyatt said.

"Maybe we should call Leo," Phoebe suggested.

"Is Dad coming to this party, or not?"

"He is," Phoebe said. "Because he thinks you're going to be here."

"Might as well call him now," Wyatt said, then lifted his head and raised his voice: "Leo!"

Leo orbed in front of Wyatt within seconds, showing up with an affectionate smile. "Good to see you again," he told Wyatt. "What's going on?"

"A demon attacked little Wyatt yesterday," Piper said. "Don't worry, he's fine, I blew the demon up, but grown-up Wyatt here has news about it, apparently."

"Yes, I do. Ever since yesterday, I've felt this ... buzzing, almost something like a tugging: tugging at me, my mind, my soul. Not continuously, just every six or seven hours, like someone repeatedly trying to get to me, failing and trying again later. And it's faint, almost like its strength is divided."

"Like they're trying to get to little Wyatt but they don't know you're here to receive the signal, too?" Leo said.

"My thoughts exactly."

"Was that your headache was all about yesterday?" Piper asked. "Why didn't say something then?"

"Because then I thought it was just a-"

"Is this a bad time?"

They turned to see Darryl standing in the doorway, holding a small, cylindrical present.

"I just wanted to drop this off," he said.

"Darryl ... aren't you coming to dinner?" Phoebe asked.

"Dinner. Actually, this is for Wyatt so he has a little something to open up, too. You mind if I give it to him?"

"Oh, that's really sweet, but we just put him down for a nap," Piper said.

"I'll sneak it in so he can see it when he wakes up. He'll never know I was here."

"Sure," Piper said. "Paige is up there. Just ... shh."

"Okay, no problem." Darryl nodded and passed with a bland smile for all of them - including grown Wyatt, who was, to Darryl, a complete stranger.

Once he was gone, Piper asked, "Okay, so someone is trying to get at you - both of you - for what?"

"I can't tell. I tried focusing my mind on it, trace it back, but ..." He clenched his jaw, frustration evident.

"We'll find a way," Piper assured him. "Whatever they're doing we can use it against them. We need to figure out how can we use this 'tugging' feeling or whatever it is to track these guys down."

"Maybe there's something in the Book..." Phoebe started to say, but was interrupted by Wyatt - he did not speak, but he had jerked suddenly to attention.

Then he bolted for the stairs. At that exact second, Piper heard static on the baby monitor. She dropped it, and followed Wyatt, practically crashing into Paige, who was walking down the stairs.

"Darryl will be right down, he-"

Piper didn't hear the rest. She kept on Wyatt's heels, and caught up with him - simply because she knew where the baby room was. Wyatt evidently did not, having already slammed open the door to Paige's former room. Then he followed Piper.

Baby Wyatt was under his shield, and the figure over him no longer looked like Darryl. It was another one of those robed demons, holding the metal rod over the crib as purple light poured from it. Piper raised her hands to blow this one up but was thrown off balance by grown Wyatt, who shoved past her and dived for the demon.

Wyatt got the demon's arm in his grip - just in time to hitch a ride as it shimmered out.


	7. Chapter 7

Never shimmered before, and now, twice in two days. It was different this time - Wyatt felt a lurch and guessed that the demon, knowing it had been hijacked, changed destination.

They landed in some deserted, hot chamber of the Underworld. Wyatt wrenched the demon's wrist, shaking loose the metal rod. But the rod flared and vanished before it even hit the rock-strewn floor. So he wasn't getting hold of that, but he could easily keep his grip on the demon.

"Go ahead," Wyatt said. "Try to shimmer out again. I can do this all day."

"I will be faithful to the one I serve," the demon declared, the solemnity of this statement undercut by its scrambling to keep its footing as Wyatt pulled it into a chokehold.

Wyatt reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a vial. An all-purpose potion - he judged it would do the trick. "Tell me what you want with the Halliwell boy."

"You're too late. The child is ours, and there's nothing the Charmed Ones can do about it."

Wyatt flicked off the vial's cork with his thumb and let a drop or two fall on the demon's face. It made a satisfying sizzle and his captive screeched. Wyatt paused to take the lay of the land. Some twenty yards away, the ground appeared to drop off, and a faint redness flickered on the ceiling of craggy rock. So they were near one of those cliffs or pits scattered throughout the Underworld. Always useful.

He returned his attention to the demon: "Let's start with a simple question: Who do you serve?"

"Our leader ... he has returned to us ... and he will crush-"

Wyatt took that as a cue to crush the demon's windpipe. Just a little. " 'Our leader' is not a name."

"He has ... many names," the demon choked out. "I will not ... betray any of them to y-"

Another drop of potion. "Did he send you after the Halliwell boy?"

"... child ... is ours."

"You said that already. The child is not 'yours.' He belongs to no one but himself." Wyatt dropped a bit of potion in the demon's ear just to emphasize the point.

After it was done screaming again, it gasped, "I accept ... die to prove my loyalty."

Wyatt flipped the demon to the ground, face down, and held him in place with one knee to its chest. "We'll see. I have a lot of patience, enough potion, and all the time in the world."

* * *

After grown Wyatt disappeared - just as Leo, Phoebe and Paige made it to the room - Piper had stood there in shock, hands still poised to blow up that demon. Someone might almost think she had frozen herself were it not for the inarticulate noises of panic she was making.

But now she was recovered and pissed off.

"What does he think he's doing? A demon's after him, and he hitches a ride to the lair? With no active powers?"

Paige was working on scrying, once again holding the teddy bear. And Phoebe was on the phone again - this time to Darryl, checking to see that he was okay, and, at Piper's insistence, telling him that the birthday dinner was off.

"Yeah, definitely. We're definitely going to reschedule," Phoebe was saying. "Okay. We'll let know you. Bye." When she hung up, she came to hover over Paige and the map. "Any luck?"

"It's tricky," she said. "They're probably in the Underworld, maybe still on the move."

Piper threw up her hands - a reaction to Paige's lack of progress, but it was just as fitting a reaction when the doorbell rang in the same instant. "I'll get it," she snapped, and stalked to the front door.

She opened it to see a scrawny, sandy-haired man in a long, dingy coat. He jumped up - he had been leaning over, peering at the doorbell.

"Can I help you?" Piper said, not in the mood for people - or whatever this one - perplexed by doorbells.

"I ... uh ... I'm here to talk to the Charmed Ones?"

"Excuse me?"

He craned his neck to see inside. Leo, holding baby Wyatt, and Phoebe had followed Piper and were standing in the foyer. Piper tried to block the stranger's view.

He said, "Do you know Michael?" At Piper's baffled reaction, he clarified: "Young man, blond hair about so long, tall ... very tall."

"Michael."

"Yeah. He asked me to get some information for him. But I, I don't know him. I don't know him at all, and he wants information about the Charmed Ones' kid, you know, the 'Twice-blessed One' or whatever? And I got the information, but I thought I ought to deliver it to you. Cut out the middleman, so to speak."

"And you are?"

"Penka." He smiled and held out a hand, which Piper did not take. He coughed awkwardly. "I'm able to, uh, get information about demons easier than most. I mean, I try not to get involved, but sometimes you witches make me and, well, here I am."

Piper didn't let him in, but eased the door open a little wider so that Leo and Phoebe could join the conversation. Penka smiled and waggled his fingers in a wave to Wyatt in Leo's arms, but stopped at Piper's glare.

"What do you know?" Leo asked.

"There's a cult. There's always a cult, right? It's called 'the Order.' " Penka made sarcastic air quotes. "Anyway, the leader was vanquished ages ago but they've stuck together, thinking he'd be reincarnated. And now they think they've found him." Penka gestured toward Leo and Wyatt, then clarified: "The baby, that is, not whoever you are."

"I'm the baby's father," Leo said.

"Oh. So you're the Elder. Congratulations. So, that's what I know, and can you tell Michael that I told you and to please leave me alone now? Thanks."

They watched open-mouthed as he shimmered out from the front porch in broad daylight.

From the living room, they heard Paige call out: "Got him, let's go!"

* * *

All three sisters orbed into the Underworld in time to see Wyatt toss a screaming demon into a pit and hurl a potion vial after him. The demon was vanquished long before he hit the ground.

Piper didn't really expect he'd be pleased to see them, and she was right.

"What are you doing here?" he said.

"Rescuing you," Piper said.

"Does it look like I needed it?"

"No," Paige said. "But it looks like you're done here, so can we get back home? Because you will need my help for that."

Paige orbed them all back to the Manor, and it was only in its brightness that they could see Wyatt was now sweaty and dusty from his trip to the Underworld. He immediately began to pace.

"That was a waste of time. I couldn't get anything out of him."

"And if you had stayed here," Piper said, "you might have gotten some information."

"How?"

"Do you know a demon named Penka?" asked Leo, who had stayed behind with baby Wyatt.

"He showed up on our doorstep, looking for 'Michael.' Ring a bell?" Piper said.

Wyatt's interest in this information seemed to win out over his irritation. "All right, what did he tell you?"

Piper explained about the Order - it was news to Paige, too, as they had rushed off to find Wyatt without stopping to fill her in.

"They're going to keep coming," Wyatt said. "The one I caught was a true believer. If the rest of them are like that, they're not going to stop until we wipe them out." He gave a short laugh. "If I had known that I was their 'leader,' it would have been easy to get that demon to talk. I could probably walk right in to..."

"No," Piper said. "Don't even think about it, mister. You're not walking right in to the lair of a cult trying to turn you evil."

"We should use the advantage that we've got. They're going to come back for him." He pointed at his younger self in Leo's arms. "We just need to be ready."

"We're not using you as bait."

"I'm already bait. And we already know they're really easy to vanquish. You blew one up; I got one with a standard potion. We just have to find them."

"This Penka guy didn't say where they are?" Paige asked.

"No," Piper said. "He just dropped this bomb and ran away as soon as he could. Oh, and Wyatt, he said not to contact him anymore. You are Michael, I assume?"

"Yes. It's a name I used when I want to be incognito. I got it from one of the men on the family tree. Don't talk to people about me, but if you have to, that's my name."

"Okay, well, why don't you and your aunts work on reproducing that potion. Once we have that, we" - Piper pointed to herself and her sisters - "not you, will find these guys and vanquish them."

"I'm going-"

Leo interrupted Wyatt. "Your mother and aunts have been doing this a long time, and they've protected you since you were born. Let them do their jobs." To Piper, he said, "I should go Up There, see what I can find out."

Piper took the baby from Leo's arms. "In the meantime, I'm going to feed this Wyatt lunch. Because even if I don't get a normal birthday party, I'm at least going to feed my son like a normal mom. And," she told older Wyatt, "even if it's a little less normal, I can fix something for you, too."

But she found herself fixing that lunch in the kitchen with the potion-makers. "It looks like most of the ingredients for this one are down here," Phoebe said apologetically. So Piper ceded the stove top to her sisters and her grown son, while she grabbed some counter space to assemble lunch for the smaller version of that son. She had put him in his high chair, as far from the potion-makers as possible, where he sat playing with cereal.

"How have you been making potions?" Paige asked Wyatt as they worked. "Do you have a kitchen where you're staying?"

"No. I went to a thrift store and bought a hot plate and a beat-up old saucepan."

"Where are you staying, anyway?" Phoebe asked.

Piper answered for him. "He's staying at what looks like some demonic flophouse."

"That's exactly what it is," Wyatt said. "It's cheap, and it's a good place to keep your ear to the ground."

"So's the Manor," Piper pointed out.

"Or," Paige said, "if you insist on roughing it, you could stay in the back room of P3 like Chris did."

Wyatt didn't even deign to reply to that with words - just a contemptuous noise.

As she handed Wyatt some mandrake root, she began, "Speaking of Chris-"

"Phoebe..." Piper warned, but Phoebe pressed on.

"I've been thinking, you know, maybe the evil Chris said was after Wyatt, maybe this is it."

Wyatt put the root on the cutting board with more force than necessary. "You're saying you don't believe me about him. I told you he was not who he said he was. The whole reason I'm staying here for now is to keep him contained and fix his mess."

"I'm not saying you're lying about this."

"You'd better not be," Piper said. She was giving them her full attention, facing them with a baby spoon and a small bowl of pureed squash.

Paige, meanwhile, had the look of someone choosing the wiser course of staying out of it, focusing on the potion.

"I'm just saying that there could be things going on that we don't understand. That none of us understand. That maybe we're not getting the full picture." She looked a little warily at Wyatt who was glowering as he chopped mandrake root with a rather large knife. She continued, "I mean, it could be a good thing. Once we vanquish this Order, maybe all that stuff Chris was talking about could be over."

Wyatt gathered the root pieces in a fist and brought them to the pot. "It'll be over when I-"

Paige interrupted: "Didn't you say the mandrake root should-"

The splattering explosion cut her off. Everyone ducked as potion flew out of the pot, over the stove, on Piper's lunch preparations, in everyone's hair.

"-be added last?" Paige finished as she straightened up.

Then she gasped, and the rest turned to see a purple beam of light hitting baby Wyatt in his high chair, the light emanating from just beyond the doorway that led to the dining room. Piper moved forward, but was blasted back when little Wyatt suddenly raised his shield.

Three robed demons entered the kitchen and the blue sphere of the shield. One took Wyatt out of the high chair. "He's one of us now," the demon intoned, before the intruders shimmered out, baby Wyatt along with them.

* * *

"You have to let me come with you now." Wyatt cut off Piper's protest: "Stop trying to protect me! I can fend for myself, no matter what you think."

"They want to turn you evil."

"Supposedly, they already have. But look at me, I'm the same. I'll stay the same as long as we get him back, and you need me to do that. He's blocked you, he won't let you in his shield. I'm your only chance now. He'll let me in - I _am _him."

"He's got a point," said Leo, who had returned at their call and with information about the Order's location. He had "sensed" it somehow, and at this stage, they were going to have to go with it.

Paige, who was handing out potion vials, handed one to Wyatt. He slipped it into his jacket pocket and Paige shrugged. "Looks like you're going to have to back down on this one, Piper," she said, and held out her hands to gather her passengers.

Paige orbed all four of them to the Underworld, into a plain strewn with pillars of rock and filled with ceremonial chanting. As grown Wyatt slipped away, circling around the other side of the knot of demons, Piper saw the demon who had carried off baby Wyatt, now holding him over an altar.

"Behold. He has returned to us. To his rightful place, who one day lead us back to-"

As long as he was holding the baby, he was untouchable, but the sisters lit into the rest, Paige and Phoebe throwing kicks and potions that sent Order members up in flames, while Piper methodically blew up others as they tried to run.

The head demon set the baby on the altar and extended his arms, that metal scepter in hand. Piper moved toward them - until Wyatt's shield knocked her back as it had in the kitchen.

"He protects me now, not you," said the demon. But seconds later, a figure from behind, within the shield, seized the back of the demon's neck and shoved his entire torso forward, cracking his head on the corner of the already bloody stone altar. The demon crumpled to the floor, the scepter rolling away.

Grown Wyatt stepped back, and calmly dropped the potion on the prone form, which went up in flames. The three demons who remained shimmered out.

Wyatt picked up the scepter and pointed it at the eyes of his younger self. A purple beam emanated from it again, and then the shield was down and the baby was reaching for his mother as Piper ran to pick him up.

Wyatt examined the rod. "Funny, I don't feel any different," he mused, and then he snapped it in two. It emitted a meek purple spark and then blackened as if it had been in a fire. It broke into a few smaller pieces when Wyatt dropped it on the ground.

* * *

In the chaos of the day, Paige never had got around to fully activating that alarm system, but as long as the crystals were scattered about the Manor, Wyatt asked if he could borrow a few. Paige told him to help himself.

"Are you always going to be this much trouble?" Piper asked as Wyatt made to leave.

"You can count on it." He returned her wry smile with a slight one, and it struck Piper how rarely she saw this Wyatt smile - and never bright and unreserved, always clouded.

"Hang on," she said. "I bought something for you."

"And it's not even my birthday."

She picked up one of the shopping bags she had abandoned in the sitting room earlier in the day and from it pulled a cell phone.

"You may insist on staying in that dive, but I want you reachable. You can call any of us - I've programmed the numbers."

Wyatt took it, flipped it open, and inspected it, prompting Piper to ask, "Do you even have cell phones in the future?"

"Close enough. Though you don't need to use them as much if you've got Whitelighter powers. Dad never got one, as far as I know."

"Well, without Whitelighter powers here - carry it with you. Use it. Got it?"

"Got it," he said, and walked away from her again.

* * *

Wyatt considered tracking down the escaped Order members and revealing himself to them. Not that he believed their nonsense about him being the reincarnation of their leader, but he could collect a few minions.

On the other hand, they had been pathetically easy to vanquish. He was used to a higher standard of minion, and these Order demons ... Even Penka was more useful, a damning comparison if there ever was one. In other words, they were not worth the risk that would come with revealing his identity to anyone - even to cultists primed to worship him.

Wyatt returned to the Order's deserted lair and retrieved the bits of that scepter. A few other ceremonial odds and ends abandoned there, and it was a simple matter to scry for the cult's survivors.

After that, all it took were Paige's crystals, a simple but painful potion, and his own will. The task took longer than it would have when he was at his full powers, of course, but within ten days the "Order" was no more.

He tracked and trapped each of them, and he did, in fact, reveal his identity. One was skeptical, the other two fell to their knees - the third and final survivor with a particularly terrified fervor. Each was made to grovel and to understand that Wyatt, at any age, was no one's pawn, bound to no one's order but his own. Only then did Wyatt finally relent and vanquish it.


End file.
